(Untitled)

[skybot_snd]

The IPD office was by no means the ideal location to be sleeping in - the stiflingly chaotic presence of paperwork was overpowering to those unfamiliar with the phenomenon, as was the lingering, heavy smell of the Commander Vimes' Death Cigars. But the T-1000 had grown used to it during the past two weeks.

It was better than the holding cell. In a

Comments

[not_a_flaw]

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

D'Anna was, needless to say, unimpressed by the what the shelf had to offer. The front and back covers of the book were insulting enough on their own; she wondered what sort of horrors awaited within. Though she wasn't entirely sure if she should subject herself to anymore of Mr Asimov ideas. The man was clearly racist.

Looking to the entrance of the rec room as someone appeared, she watched for a moment, brow arched slightly. "Lose something?" she asked. His clothing, for instance.

[skybot_snd]

"Maybe," the T-1000 replied noncommittally, eying the woman with some suspicion, since he wasn't sure what her stance on keeping wildcats inside the compound was. "Have you seen a," he paused, trying to find a suitably neutral term, "cat, somewhere in the area?"

He kept looking around as he made his way closer to the center of the room. Sarah was nowhere to be seen.

"And you shouldn't read that," his expression turned into a displeased frown as he noticed the book the woman was holding. The bookshelf had attempted to offer it to him once, and he'd given it a very firm glare in return. He hadn't seen the book since, which was fortunate for all parties involved. "Asimov is an idiot." Most humans who attempted to write about artificial organisms were, in his view.

[not_a_flaw]

"I'm pretty certain I've seen at least half a dozen of them." If there was one thing the compound wasn't lacking in, it was cats. D'Anna didn't mind them so much, although she did prefer dogs. She still missed Jake every now and again.

"No, you're right, I probably shouldn't," she agreed, thumbing the books pages, wondering if anyone ever actually got a laugh from the shelves attempts at humor at their expense. The thing hadn't gotten so much as a smile from her since she's been on the island. "He does appear to be exactly that, yes. You've read it?"

[skybot_snd]

"You would notice this specific cat," the T-1000 attempted to specify while still remaining within a range of comfortable vagueness. "She's larger than usual."

Staying in the rec area was hindering his search for Sarah, but the topic of Asimov and his deluded set of 'laws' wasn't something he could simply disregard.

"And I haven't read it directly." He had, however, been programmed with fairly comprehensive data on popular literature. "But anybody who thinks it's viable to create sentient beings for the service of humanity must possess both an inflated view of themselves and a complete lack of survival instinct." It actually described humanity pretty well, he thought.

[not_a_flaw]

"Oh? Well, I think I've only seen average sized cats so far." Maybe her senses weren't what they used to be back home, but she was positive that an extra large house cat would have stuck out to her. "I'm sure it'll turn up. You could try laying out some food for her. Might coax her out of her hiding spot." Along with any other cat in the vicinity, no doubt.

"They don't usually like being told that, though. Especially not by their creations." They tended to get downright defensive, actually. They liked it even less when the message was delivered in the form of a nuclear holocaust.

[skybot_snd]

"She's more of a jaguar, actually." The woman wasn't IPD and she didn't seem adverse to cats, even oversized ones, so he decided sharing the information was relatively safe. "And I'd prefer not to draw too much attention to the search."

Clearly, he was already failing to accomplish that.

"As for humans - their preference doesn't really hold as much relevance as they think," which was a very mild way of putting it. Then again, humanity did possess a special kind of stubbornness that made the species far more resilient than one would expect.

"I'm Austin, by the way," he extended a hand, "the T-1000."

[not_a_flaw]

"I'm sorry - you keep a jaguar inside of doors?" Actually, the 'inside of doors' part wasn't really even all that necessary. "That's... different." Odd was more like it. Maybe she wasn't one to judge, though. It's not like she had much experience with jaguars. Maybe they made fine pets?

"D'Anna," she said, giving the offered hand a shake. And as long as numbers were involved... "Or Three, as most seem set in calling me. What's the T stand for?"

[skybot_snd]

"I'm different," the T-1000 replied simply, since it was true enough. And whatever other implications the word contained probably applied to him as well. "And she's not fully grown. She doesn't pose a threat, yet." Though she did manage to terminate shoes with extreme efficiency.

"T is for Terminator," he explained, his voice carrying a note of distraction as most of his attention was focused on deciphering D'Anna's introduction. Three. There was also someone named Six, according to the IPD directory. "Is Three a model number?"

[not_a_flaw]

That's what they all say...

It sounded like something straight out of the mouths of Boomer and Caprica, back when the two first buddied up, following Six's first download. We're different, they insisted. And there in began the trouble. "Well that's reassuring, at least." For however long 'yet' lasted. D'Anna didn't know much about the growth rate of jaguars.

"It is," she nodded. "Or was, at any rate - here it's just a funny name. I'm Number Three of Twelve."

[skybot_snd]

The T-1000 had been different ever since he'd been created. It was a perquisite of being a prototype; there were no other 1000 units. Here he was only human, but he knew better than to allow himself to forget what he had been. His identity was all he had left. He had to be different.

"Are you a Cylon?" he inquired, somewhat excitably. Cylons were the only form of previously artificial life beside himself he knew existed on the island, but he hadn't gotten to interact with one yet. "What's the significance of the numbers?" It was very straightforward when it came to terminator models - the numbers clearly signified technological advancement. Twelve models sounded like an odd way to go about unit production, and almost purposefully symbolic.

[not_a_flaw]

"I am." Was, technically speaking, but if D'Anna had found herself in the company of any of the Colonial on the island, there wasn't a chance in this world or any other that they'd think of her as anything but a Cylon.

"As for what the numbers mean, you're guess is as good as mine. Or any of my brothers and sisters, really." It was no mere coincidence that there were twelve -- twelve Lords of Kobal, twelve Colonies, twelve models -- but what it all meant was just as much a mystery to her as it was him. "We weren't supposed to think about things like that, to wonder about how and why we came to be, what our individual significances were, if any."

[skybot_snd]

Numbers without apparent, immediate meaning. It failed to make sense to him. Who would make them that way? And why?

D'anna was referring to the other models as brothers and sisters, which was also an odd approach. It would be equivalent to him thinking of the T-800 as a big brother, rather than the inferior, annoying, badly dressed piece of technology he was. He did, however, understand what she'd said about their creator not wanting them to question their existence - it was something he'd been coming to terms with since his arrival on the island.

He stepped closer, tilting his head as he examined her, curiosity building rapidly. "What were you made of? What was your purpose?"